The concert ended hastily but without danger, and Carl left Rosie Scott his phone number, agreeing to set a time to discuss sheet music. He always had it on his mind.
When Rosie Scott finally left, she went to the bathroom to fix her makeup, having had a bit of an emotional breakdown on stage.
By coincidence, she ran into Isabella Scott in the bathroom.
There was still a red hue in Isabella's eyes, but her expression had returned to normal. Seeing Rosie enter, her gaze turned venomous.
"Cousin, you really have an eye for things, marrying a cripple. What a waste of such good looks."
Rosie kept a cold face, suppressing the turmoil in her stomach, glanced at her, and ignored her provocation, tidying her makeup at the sink.
Isabella, seeing Rosie dare to ignore her, slammed a hand on the sink and angrily said, "Rosie Scott, what makes you so arrogant? Even though Carl is an international master, he's someone that Adam paid to boost my image. You will always be my defeated opponent."
"Hmph..." Rosie found it very childish. She shook her hands a bit too hard after washing, splashing water onto that shameless person.
"What are you doing!"
"Isabella Scott." The girl raised her eyes to meet Isabella's, the hatred from deep within her eyes seemed to swallow everything. She gritted her teeth and said, "You have quite the means, but for the rest of your life, you'd better pray you don't fall into my hands."
Fuming, Isabella wanted to slap Rosie right after she finished speaking. But Rosie was quick, directly grabbing Isabella's hand, pushing her and causing her to fall onto the sink, staining her white dress with water.
"Next time if you dare raise a hand against me, I'll let you know how it feels to kiss the ground." Rosie left with a cool demeanor, exiting the bathroom.
Isabella was stomping her feet in the bathroom out of anger.
The theater audience scattered like birds, and the large poster at the entrance had long been taken down. Seeing Isabella so glamorous when arriving and now turned into a laughable joke felt strangely satisfying.
It was past midnight when Rosie and Charles Anderson finally sat in the car heading home.
"Do you really like the piano?" Charles turned his head to look at her, noticing that ever since hearing Carl play 'Dolden Lake', she had become mute, sitting silently and motionlessly beside him.
"No, I don't." The girl answered quickly.
"If it's not the piano, then it must be that piece you like." Charles extended a hand with a piece of chocolate to her, a momentary softness flashed in his eyes: "Have something to eat first."
The sun was at its peak, slowly emerging from behind plain clouds. As the greenery outside the car window flickered past, Rosie looked down at the chocolate in Charles's hand, the sunlight first falling on it.
Rosie was silent for a while, then suddenly spoke softly: "Charles Anderson, is your concern real?"
The man lifted his eyes, the two of them exchanged glances.
Assistant Hugh was driving. It was rare to see the younger master carrying snacks with him, and he thought it must be because he was worried Miss Scott might be hungry. Seeing the electric atmosphere between them, he couldn't help but feel a small satisfaction.
"Miss Scott, the young master is worried you might be hungry," Jack Hugh said cheerfully, thinking that although the forced marriage talk was not honorable, if it could result in a great story, it would be all the better.
The girl's fingertips were a bit cool as she took the chocolate from Charles's palm. He retracted his hand, yet the cold of her touch lingered.
"Turn the air conditioning up a bit more."
Once they reached Anderson Castle, Rosie for the first time sensed Charles's limitation.
Jack hurried to get the wheelchair from the trunk, placing it by the car door. Charles lifted himself onto it using only his arms, quickly moving his stiff legs over as well.
It turns out he didn't need help; he could manage it himself.
Rosie quickly averted her gaze, not wanting to make anyone feel embarrassed, and opened the door to enter Anderson Castle by herself.
She was a strong person, and so was Charles. In their darkest and most embarrassing moments, they both preferred to go unnoticed.
After alighting from the car, all Charles saw was her resolute departing figure, the hem of her skirt swaying in the wind, her slender waist, and elegant neck, like a beauty from a painting.
The sun dipped west, the thin clouds turned crimson.
From an outsider's perspective, the life of someone disabled seemed simple — fishing, sunbathing, and before you know it, the day is gone. Jack, though a personal assistant, wouldn't help the young master bathe, nor would the young master allow it.
"Young master, Mr. Anderson has been asking about you a lot lately. You should find time to visit."
"I have limited mobility, so I won't go back." The man alone wheeled himself into the room.
Jack stood with his head down at the door. He couldn't fathom why Mr. Anderson was so harsh in the past, sending his son, even as disabled as he was, to such a remote place like Anderson Castle. Now that he wanted to see the young master, it was only natural that the young master was unwilling to return.
After locking the door, the sound of running water came from the bathroom. Charles Anderson's dark eyes grew slightly deep, and he moved his wheelchair closer. When he pushed open the bathroom door, he saw a girl crouched beside the tub in a half-kneeling position, dressed in a white t-shirt and shorts, already having filled half the tub with water.
"Honey… come and take a bath."
Charles froze at the bathroom door, poker-faced, yet his frequently moving Adam's apple betrayed his panic: "I don't need help bathing."
The steam from the hot water filled the bathroom, the girl barefoot, stood and turned off the tap, walking gracefully towards him.
Her feet were soft, her toes pink, and she seemed delicate and dainty stepping on the wet tiles. Rosie leaned in, noticing Charles had a tight grip on the wheelchair, and couldn't help but chuckle: "Do you want me to help you bathe, or are we having a couple's bath?"
The man's eyes momentarily flickered with uncertainty, like a nerve being touched, but his voice was indifferent: "I don't need sympathy. You don't need to meddle. With the Anderson family's assets, acting as your long-term meal ticket only benefits you. Besides not getting too close to other males, you have free reign in Ael."
Was this an admission of the contract marriage?
Living separately, minding their own business?
"The young master's words resonate deeply with me."
The girl faintly smiled, staring at Charles's warmly angry face for a while.
"Kindness turned into nothing, would Mr. Anderson have me kicked out if I stayed longer?" Rosie crossed her arms, feeling delighted. If she annoyed him enough to be kicked out of Anderson Castle, she wouldn't have to get married and could return to her old life. It would be amazing.
The girl took stock of the man sitting in the wheelchair. Though seated, he somehow overshadowed her with his aura.
Charles Anderson had high arching brows, deep eyes that gazed at people intensely: "Since Rosie wants to help me bathe and there's no avoiding it, I'll rely on you."
With that, the man made to unbuckle his pants, Rosie widened her eyes and stretched out her hand, shouting, "Wait, aren't you angry."
"I'm not angry, I'm simply worried about troubling you." The man seemed to have already resigned himself, pulling out his belt.
Rosie watched him throw the belt to the ground, his hands not stopping, and her pupils trembled: "You.....you you you.....wait!"
"I want to relieve myself, and since you're here, why not help me up."
Rosie swallowed hard, thinking that for all his tricks, Charles Anderson was truly maintaining a remarkable facade, leaving her, who felt like a rogue with no way out, speechless… what a strategy.
But alas, she had already faced death once, fearing no half-paralytic cripple now.
Impossible!
"Alright…..fine, I'll help you to the bathroom." Her eyes darted around, her voice unsure, walking slowly until she drew near, suddenly asking out of nowhere: "Where should I support you?"
Could it be...
Charles hadn't expected her audacity, his black eyes flashed chaotic for a moment, then the man chuckled: "Where would you like to support?"
"I..." The girl's ears turned red. She wished she could just bury herself on the spot, wondering what she was doing!
The man smiled with his eyes, thin lips parted slightly: "Rosie, if you want to do something, you need to think ahead about what might happen and how to handle it."
"Otherwise, acting rashly can easily be taken advantage of."